


Dysfunctional

by My_Dear_Watson



Series: Saints and Sinners [2]
Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Watson/pseuds/My_Dear_Watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Princess has settled into being Queen, but she's not as thrilled about it as she was a couple of years ago. Now all she wants is as quiet of a life as she can get. But when your brother failed in protecting your land, your mother was the Hero of Bowerstone, and your father may or may not be Reaver, she really doesn't have that luxury. Even Ben of all people seems perfectly happy with their new lives. But as expected, Albion's got one adventure left for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Queen Jocelyn was tired.

It had been three years since the ordeal with the Darkness, and she was still fixing things. Whether it was the temporary property tax prices down, Logan’s other messes, or the Annoyance of the Week from Reaver, she had barely had a moment to breathe.

She missed her old life, looking up to Logan and Elliot and just enjoying life before everything had gone wrong. She missed coming into her own when they did. She missed training with Walter. She misses late nights with Ben, exchanging funny stories about their lives to try to get their minds off their potential oncoming death at the Crawler’ hand. She missed Jasper, considering she barely saw him outside of her now-rare visits to Sanctuary. Hell, she even missed Reaver’s visits, as maddening as they were, but now even he was ‘too busy to see his favorite Princess, beside your mother”, even if he was supposedly due for a visit soon.

Logan didn’t help much, but he tried. She had kept him alive, and he had taken to trying to make amends for everyone- her, her friends, and their people alike. He had spent time imprisoned, and now that he was out he worked with the people in trying to keep trade up, or writing letters that needed to be written for her. The people still didn’t trust him- wouldn’t, for some time, they both knew, but they noticed that the people of Albion finally seemed to be accepting that the man was making efforts to make up for his tyranny, now that there was no immediate evil threat on the horizon.

But Ben- he was her damn constant, when her life was still in disarray and even now. She had learned that fact when she had woken up on that damned beach and he had slid up into her field of vision to express his relief she was okay.  He had come back to the castle after going off on his own for a while and admitted being fed up with all of his travelling and wanted to settle for a bit. She had offered him a spot as her military general in response, and he had barely thought on it an hour before accepting. He had hardly left her side since, and had recently appointed himself as the captain of her personal guards.

During the time of Jocelyn’s reign, it had become an unwritten rule that Ben was the only one aside from advisors and family that could speak freely or touch her without risking getting imprisoned- or possibly murdered, but that was beside the point.  After he had been the only one to come to her side and hold her after Walter died and he was the only one aside from Jasper that she let anywhere near her afterward, it went without saying that he was allowed to.  Granted, there was that one time shortly after his return before he had done his self-promotion that he had playfully punched Jocelyn in the arm as the pair shared stories from their time apart. Within five seconds of the punch he had four guards on top of him.  But neither of them liked dwelling on that. Ben would never admit it, but it hurt like Hell, so no, not a favorite topic.

Logan was never happy about their relationship once he had come back to the castle after a long absence and saw them together. He knew that as a man in his position should tread carefully; but Jocelyn was still his baby sister and he wasn’t fond of a man just slightly younger than him showing clear interest in her, platonic or otherwise. 

Later on, Ben and Jocelyn would laugh and wonder just what Logan would’ve thought if he knew that particular ship had sailed a while back. Jocelyn had all but jumped the man a week after his return to Albion. He had first arrived, beaten, bloody and cursing Reaver’s name because he had gotten jumped over some misunderstanding over some con job. Jocelyn had gotten her doctors to patch him up and after a few days’ rest, he was ready to leave again.  She had insisted he should stay longer, and the playful banter that followed his skeptical refusal ended when she yanked him down to her eye level and kissed him as a last resort; and it worked… and then some. Ben, of course, didn't mind at all. Bedding his best friend- a beautiful woman who had saved his life in countless figurative and literal ways and tolerated his humor- he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Admittedly, Ben had sensed Logan’s distaste over them even just as a hypothetical couple and loved it. Any time he noticed Logan watching them a bit too closely, he laid the flirting on as thick as he had back in the day. It had been nothing new to his and Jocelyn’s friendship, but bothering Logan to no end when he couldn’t kill the man was a fair trade for the pain the former king had caused.

It had been touch and go with their mutual annoyance with each other, until one day that all changed. Logan finally snapped and confronted Ben, sparking an argument that ended with him throwing a _table_ at Ben and Ben firing a shot from his pistol that missed the former King's face by _an inch_. After the smoke cleared, none of the witnesses knew what to do. They all had issues with both men. Ben was cocky, rude, completely improper in behavior. Logan was a tyrant whose reign would forever be a thing of nightmares. Two witnesses settled for getting Jocelyn to resolve things. After hearing of the fight, Jocelyn didn't speak to either of them for three days. They didn't so much as look at each other for three months.

Ben and Jocelyn still had no idea how they had managed to keep their ‘relationship’ under wraps from everyone else, either. They knew they were lucky that no one too important had come across them during one of their trysts.

Then again, Reaver had walked in on them once. It had been deliberate on his part, of course,  partially to add “Overprotective” to his 'On Again, Off Again Adoptive Father to his “Jossie Dear”'s title, but also to see who the 'lucky lad who had laid a claim on his late Sparrow’s daughter'. When he saw it was Ben, he had grinned ear-to-ear, loving the absolute scandal it could cause. He decided to keep his mouth shut however, figuring it was decent material for blackmail. Of course, he had asked to join them and Jocelyn had thrown a knife at his head for doing so.  He had to admit Ben was quite the looker and made Jocelyn’s arm all the prettier as well, and prettier royalty made for more money everywhere. There had always been that possibility for him and Sparrow, but it hadn’t stuck- or he didn’t think so- after all, after all these years no one was sure who Jocelyn’s real father was. That all didn’t matter then. What did was that he would have so much fun with the information that had been dropped into his lap.

 Ben and Jocelyn, to their credit, were absolutely certain the blackmail bit was on the table in the future. They had both agreed on not putting any thought into any other options out of fear.

Yes, Jocelyn's family, extended or otherwise was a mess to say the very least. They made the endless rush that was her life slightly more tolerable, so she’s take that. She just hoped it would stay that way for the next few months.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben groaned when bright and early one morning, there was a knock at Jocelyn’s door. They had just had a very, very nice, satisfying reunion after he went off to take care of a cave of hobbes the previous night. Waking so early for something that wasn’t even his concern was less than ideal, as far as he was concerned. Still, he could have worse company and a harder bed. He was never one to stay the night after a roll in the hay with… _anyone_. And now here he was, enjoying the mornings as much as the nights. Jocelyn was taming him, and he was genuinely not minding it. Well, that was something, wasn’t it?

There was another knock. “Your Majesty, you’re needed in the throne room immediately. You have subjects ready to plead cases to you!” called the person doing the knocking.

Jocelyn stirred and made a move to get up.

Ben groaned and pulled her against him. “Can’t you just tell this one to shove it an’ quit Queenie duties for the day? Stay with me in here all day?”

She laughed quietly. “I wish I could, believe me…” She tried to pry herself out of his arms, and when he pulled her right back again, she laughed weakly. “Ben, come on, I really-“

Ben shook his head against her shoulder. “No, _you_ come on. Can’t you just wave your royal stick thing around and give yourself a day off, Queen’s orders?”

Jocelyn scoffed again. “Royal _scepter_ , and I don’t wave it, I just… hold it for show.”

“I’ll show you a different scepter you can hold…” Ben countered.

She smacked his shoulder. “Cad. Did you really just-" she stopped short when she realized something was different about the voice on the other side of the door. She sat up immediately. "Hold on, that wasn't Hobson. Who-"

Before she could finish the sentence, the doors slammed open. Ben dove for the floor out of habit from being the 'riff raff' caught in bed with the queen. A stranger strolled into the room, far too casually for an apparent intruder. 

Jocelyn, on the other hand, reached for her Dragonstomper. She leveled it at the stranger’s head. The man was blonde, bulky, definitely not one of the servants. “Who-“

The man smirked. "Now now, Chickadee. Is that any way to treat guests?”

She lowered the gun and gawked at the ‘stranger.’ She knew the voice this time around, but the ridiculous nickname was the giveaway.  “Reaver?!” she set the gun down. As a brief afterthought, she wondered just why she had done so. He was hardly trustworthy, and if he broke in, he could mean trouble.  “How long have you had that face?! Did anyone stop you from trying to get in here?!”

Reaver shrugged. “Just paid a visit to my friends in low places last week, Dearest. And no, of course not.”

She gave him a disapproving look, even if she knew full well it might as well have meant nothing to him. It was the thought that counted. Every time he made one of his ‘visits’ at least one of her people ended up dead. She would have to go check on everyone soon. “Why are you here?”

Reaver crossed his arms over his chest. “More importantly, why hasn’t that delightful little golden retriever of yours come out of hiding?” Reaver countered.

Ben concealed a groan of annoyance. He hated the man, but was smart enough to know no one could fool Reaver. He was found out, and that was that. He saw his trousers on the ground a couple of feet away and yanked them on quickly before he stood up. “Oh, sod off, Reaver!” 

Reaver beamed. “You’re the one who knew I was referring to you, Boy.”

Ben glared the other man down, then arched an eyebrow. “Your Queen asked you a question.”

Reaver took the point to heart and looked back at Jocelyn. He bowed overdramatically and straightened out quickly. “I come bearing Albion’s gossip, and… a reminder of how your mother and previous monarchs ran things.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Jocelyn asked. She knew that apparently being as benevolent as she was considered was a new concept to the people of Albion. Her mother had been kind but greedy, and even she didn't understand most of her mother's logic. Reaver was probably getting at that, but she sensed there was something else the Hero was trying to say. She had an idea of it, but playing ignorant was better most of the time.  

Even with the new face, Reaver’s smirk remained just as gleefully predatory when he was looking for trouble as he always did. “Well, your subjects… and some of the lovely people within these walls are getting concerned about the monarchy living on.” When she continued to scowl, his grin broadened. “As in they’re wondering when their pathetically angelic queen is going to settle down, get married and pop out a couple of heirs who will be equally angelic,” he explained. “Though, following your family pattern, I might actually like your children more than you. They might actually listen to me,” he finished. The last part had sounded remarkably less bored than the rest. He sounded a little _too_ hopeful.

Jocelyn frowned at him. “So are you manipulating this gossip to your benefit, or are you just toying with us?”

“My dear, I insist it’s all true!” Reaver objected. 

“No one’s ever cared before," Jocelyn countered. 

“Yes, well, you weren’t turning twenty-five before. A woman’s clock ticks quite readily when they reach that point-“

Jocelyn gasped and threw the nearest silver plate at the Hero.

Reaver ducked it with no problem, laughed once, then stopped short. “Is that any way to treat _your father_ , Your Majesty?!”

Any humor that Jocelyn had found in the conversation immediately stopped. She was sick and tired of his about-faces on the topic. “You are _not_ my father.”

Reaver arched an eyebrow. “I could be, and that’s what counts, isn’t it? Still not a kind thing to do to your father who’s just trying to help.”

 “Yeah, well, suggesting a threesome isn’t any way to treat your daughter, either,” Ben pointed out. The hero had done that twice the previous week, the second twice as mortifying as the first. 

“Well, there is the chance I’m not, so why refuse a spot of fun?” Reaver countered. 

“The possibility of blood relation for starters,” Ben answered without missing a beat.

Reaver sighed dramatically. After a moment, he shifted his arm, revealing he had a folded paper under it. He made a show of unfolding it, then held it out to Jocelyn. He rolled his eyes when she didn’t bother taking it. “A list of all of the eligible bachelors around. Starting with most preferable, ending with… those that’re hardly preferable, but I know you’d be upset if I left them out.”

“Do you honestly expect me to believe you did this?” Jocelyn countered. She hesitated, then took the paper carefully. She glanced at Ben and hoped that the uneasy look she saw cross his face was all in her head. She looked it over. “Piotr the Noble? The one in Bower- he’s an old, drunken ass!”

“Ah, yes, but a _rich_ drunken ass,” Reaver pointed out.

She shoved the list back at him. “I’ll work on that front of my own, thanks. I don’t need your help. They want a King, they want an heir, they can wait. I saved their lives, they owe me.”

“You’re finally starting to sound like me,” Reaver pointed out.

“In your wildest dreams, Reaver-“

“That’s what your mother said, then I left for a year and came back to a greedy little thing,” he countered again.

She scowled at him. “Out, Reaver.”

He grinned again, then bowed. “Whatever you say, my little Chickadee. You talk it out with your bed warmer here. Let me know if you want to go through with any of this.” He bowed, did a little flourish with his hand, then walked out of the room.

Jocelyn buried her face in her hands and slid further down into her bed. Ben waited a few moments to make sure Reaver wasn’t coming back to return to it as well. A loaded silence followed. She was the first to speak. “You don’t think he was serious, did you? They didn’t care when Logan-“

Ben remained quiet for a few moments.“Because they were trying to _not get killed_ when Logan was on the throne,” Ben pointed out. “But… I haven’t the foggiest. I mean, it is Reaver we're talking about. He could be messing with you, but… your mother was married by now. And was pregnant with Logan. I mean, having an heir is all on you, considering Logan isn’t exactly looking to get married or reproduce- thankfully. But… I don’t think it’s your _people_ ’s concern as much as Reaver’s or some of the other fancy-pants nobles and such.”

She flinched. “No, Logan even said something about it not long ago. He mentioned attempting to wait for love... before everything happened. Then... he was too busy preparing to entertain the idea of marriage. Now that the serious danger is gone and our line does have to go on..." she trailed off, searching for words. Far too many invaded her head after a moment. She sighed again and rested her head on Ben's chest. When he put an arm around her, she leaned into him more. "Am I really just about to say Reaver may have a point, even if he’s just messing about?”

“Well, at least it took you this long to agree to a word he’s said.” Ben pointed out.

She laughed weakly, then sat up again. She buried her face in her hands. “Ben, what am I going to do? Even if I wait, I do  _have_ to marry. For the ‘family line.’ I mean, I didn’t think… _this_ was going to last as long as it has, but…” she began, motioning between them. “I just…”

Ben hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Then you’ve got one option, sounds like, considering all of the other dolts in the land you’ve got to choose from… outside of having Elliot’s girl killed.”

She shoved his arm. “Idiot. What's the option?" 

Ben laughed, but it was brief again, and she picked up on the surprising hesitation behind it. “Come on, for once I’m serious,” he insisted. 

 “Ben Finn? Serious? Must be the end of the world. No wonder people suddenly care about my family life.” She rolled on top of him. “So what’s this suggestion of yours?”. Her heart sunk when he kept the serious look on his face. In fact, he looked pained. Oh, she had really screwed this one up. “Ben? What is it?”

He looked like he was about to vomit. He opened his mouth, and for the first time, struggled for words. “… … Marry me.”


	3. Chapter 3

Jocelyn stared at Ben. She wasn’t sure what to be more stunned about. The words that her best friend had just uttered, or the fact that he was looking at her expectantly, like he had just done his usual inquiry of ‘when’s lunch?’. How did he expect her to react? Was he serious?  She shook her head to try to mute all the questions marring her thoughts. She settled for one. “What?” she asked.

“Marry me,” Ben repeated.

She scooted further under the covers, then crossed her arms over her chest. “You- _I…”_ she trailed off. Then, firmer but still clearly at a loss, “Ben, no.” She sat up and pulled the covers further up her chest. It was meant as a shield for her empathy at the stormcloud she knew was coming. She realized a moment too late that it probably looked to him like she was trying to escape and eased up her grip on them.

The hesitant smile that was forming on his lips promptly died. “That… wasn’t the response I had been expecting, honestly.”

“Well, you kind of just… sprang that on me,” she pointed out. Her heart sunk.  This was going horribly and it had just started. And at this rate there was no other way it could go but _worse._

Ben frowned. “Isn’t that what the proposer is supposed to do when there’s no one else to ask as far as blessings or permission go? Just ask the question and call it a day?" Ben countered. He still sounded hurt, but there was humor under that particular statement, so she took comfort where she could. He paused for a moment, then arched his eyebrows. “Well, no one else who I didn’t see murder one of the closest things I had to a father, or… isn’t just a git who tried to join us in bed a matter of minutes ago, who wouldn't give their blessing anyway?”

“That’s not…” Jocelyn began, but then was at a loss again. “I don’t mean ‘no’ just for timing, I mean ‘no’ because… it just… us getting married would be… less than ideal for the pair of us," she said quietly. 

What humor Ben had been holding into promptly disappeared once that registered. He scoffed, all anger this time. “Tell me how you really feel then. I mean, what have we been doing this for then?” he motioned between them. It was his turn to sit up. He started to get out of bed.

Jocelyn practically lunged for him. She managed to catch his arm at the last moment and yanked him back into the middle of the bed. “Not what I meant, _again_.  Don’t you dare run.” She tossed her leg over his hips for good measure.

In any other situation, he would’ve hardly minded, but now- well, he still hardly minded but it wasn’t the best subject matter for her to do that.  “Oh, now you’re playing dirty, are you?” he asked. He had to physically stop himself from running his hands up her sides on instinct. 

Jocelyn put her fingers over his mouth. “Shut it. Can we talk about this without you playing dramatics?” she countered. When Ben merely arched an eyebrow, she sighed. “Ben, you know I would love to marry you.  You’d be the only one I’d even _consider_ marrying.” She took her hand away.

The confident, rogueish smile was back for a moment. He ran his thumbs over her hips. “Then what’s the particular issue? Why would it be 'less than ideal'?”

 “You!” Jocelyn poked him in the chest. “Would you actually want to be King of Albion? I doubt it. You’re all ‘adventure and debachery’ and ruling is… boredom and making and breaking rules. And that’s my opinion, and I know yours would be worse. You wouldn’t want that to be your life after all those adventures.”  

“I’d deal with it if it meant keeping all those ponces that Reaver will find for laughs away from you.”

She smiled. “Is that… jealousy I hear? Out of the mouth of Ben Finn?”

Ben went to smile back, but stopped. “I’m serious, Jossie. If it’s them or me, then you’re damn well sure I’m choosing me.”

Jocelyn was equal parts touched an annoyed. Leave it to Benjamin Finn to be romantic at the apparent exact last minute. Or, well, the start of the last minute phase, anyway. But she couldn’t help but be smug at the fact that it was her that had drawn that reaction from him. “I just… we never really spoke about the possibility. I thought… this was enough for the both of us.”

“Oh, so now your best friend is just good for the quick shag here and there?”  Ben replied. 

Her heart sunk when she couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. She prayed it was the former and smacked his arm. "Ben! You know that’s not true, either. Come on. You and I were both blindsided with Reaver’s news…”

“I’m more blindsided with this whole thing where I just proposed to you, you said no, and then you said that you would say yes,” Ben clarified. “Talk about mixed signals.”

Jocelyn looked away from him briefly. She needed to be careful. She thought she had brought the conversation back to a safe area that wouldn't end in disaster, but it was teetering over the edge again. “We don’t even know if Reaver was being honest, he could’ve been messing with us. He’s a serial liar.”

“Yeah, unless it suits him. For all we know he’s setting this up so he can marry you,” Ben countered.

Jocelyn gagged playfully. “I wouldn’t stand for that, you know that. Firstly with the whole ‘may be my father’ thing-“

Ben shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Ew, secondly, even if he’s not, he still had… whatever he had with my mother. Still creepy enough for me to refuse and find a loophole, live out my days as a spinster queen with you by my side," she answered. She hoped she had rescued it with that line alone. 

“And… if he’s not, and you get trapped in a bunch of regulations and obligations?” Ben asked.

She flinched, assuming she had been very, very wrong. She hated how hurt he sounded. She wanted to know why things had gone downhill. She thought he would appreciate that her refusal was for his benefit, so he could still be the Ben Finn everyone knew and she loved, damn it, but now he was drawing further away by the second. And she didn’t have an answer for him. She’d have to track down Jasper and Hobson. Avo, Hobson would probably just agree with Reaver and arrange suitors just for the Hell of it. She was in trouble. “I don’t know, Ben…” she admitted. “I just… I need more to go on. It's probably avoidable." 

 Ben looked away from her and set his jaw. “But if it’s not, then… this is it, then?”

She sighed. “Can we skip the dramatics until we actually find out?”

“I’ d still like-“

There was a knock on the door, and the pair of them jumped, then groaned. “Every damned time…” Jocelyn growled. 

“Your Majesty?” Hobson called from the other side of the door. 

The door handle jiggled again.

Ben all but threw himself at the window and went to work opening it.

Jocelyn bolted next to him, trying to help in any way.

They succeeded, and Ben got up onto the sill in order to climb out.

Jocelyn caught his arm at the last minute. “Promise me you’re not angry with me.”

“Jossie,” Ben warned and eyed the door. Whoever it was had started to open the door.

Jocelyn took hold of his hand, pouring all her Hero strength into it for good measure. "I’ll figure this out, I promise. Now _you_ promise _me_.”

Ben huffed, then swooped down and kissed her quickly. “Promise.”

She smiled, and finally, finally found the courage to tell him that she loved him, if only to reassure him that they would work something out if the worst case scenario did happen, but the door had started to swing open and the creak drew her attention long enough that when she looked back, Ben had apparently already sidled along the ledge outside the window enough to be out of sight. She sighed and closed the window, just in time for Hobson to step through. She turned around. “Hello, Hobson.”

“Your people require your audience again,” Hobson told her without missing a beat. “You’ve been neglecting most of the economic decisions. Even Saker has a few requests for you. Remind me why we’re humoring him-“

“He turned out to be a decent ally. And friend,” Jocelyn replied. When Hobson frowned disapprovingly, she returned the expression. “Anything about…concerns about my… lifestyle?”

Hobson merely arched an eyebrow, said “several,” and promptly walked out. “Throne room. Ten minutes!” he called after he had made it back into the hall.

Well, there was no running from it, then. She just hoped that if the marriage concern was on the list, it was a fair ways down. She scrambled for her more ‘regal looking’ attire, then headed out.

She was only slightly surprised to find Reaver waiting for her just outside her doors, arms crossed, looking down. Of course the only thing that hadn’t changed with his new face was that damned permanent smirk of his.

He bowed mockingly. “Majesty.”

She slapped him across the face, and tried not to get angrier when he didn’t so much as flinch. She took small comfort in realizing that he had probably contemplated killing her for it for a moment, but hadn’t followed through. “Why do you do this to me?! If you’re not out trying to end my life, you’re trying to ruin it!” she hissed.

Reaver feigned confusion.  “What? Did my news inspire a lover’s quarrel? Well, it is true, is it not? A queen needs a king.”  

“Why would you care?” she asked.

“I don’t, whether you go through with it or not, it’s no… direct concern of mine. Just expressing fatherly concern.”

She was getting tired of how many times he held that over her head. It was starting to be a daily occurrence. It _had_ been a daily occurrence over the last three days. “You know, the more you mention that, the more I wonder if you’re actually hopeful that it’s true.”

“My dear, I do not doubt it. Heroic blood does run deep. And you did pick up your marksman skills remarkably quickly…” he trailed off, and arched a challenging eyebrow. “So what if I may be open to something that’s mutually beneficial?"

She rolled her eyes, and then one argument that had somehow never occurred to her until that moment came to mind. She had asked him why he had never pressed anyone on finding out her bloodline, and suddenly, a clear path that she was surprised he had never taken occurred to her. “What’s stopped you from finding out? If we were blood, you’d exploit that. You’d find a way to manipulate things so you could rule Albion."

He leaned forward again, predatory and arrogant.  “Because I enjoy nearly unlimited power, Jossie dear. If I stated a claim, I’d get more rules. And rules are hardly desirable now, are they?”

She shook her head again. “Come on. Let’s not keep the public from their Queen and her most useless advisor any longer.”

He smirked back at her and offered his elbow.

She grunted and walked ahead of him.

Reaver chuckled and followed her. “That’s the most like your mother I’ve ever seen you.”

“Then it’s the most like her you’ll _ever_ see me,” she countered.

Her relationship with her mother had been… complicated. Even young, she could tell that the woman was warm but unbearably greedy, and beyond impulsive.  She had been a good mother, but always distracted if there was something involving money happening when she was tending to her children. She had recalled stories that a leader from Knothole Island had sent her on a repeating quest about weather of all things, and when he had played games with her, and when it turned out he was exploiting his people, her mother had supposedly shot him point blank and stood there to watch him bleed out. Yes, her moral standing was… hardly consistent.

Really, it was no wonder that she and Reaver had been friends _and then some._

“You don’t give your mother enough credit,” Reaver pointed out.

 “Oh, I give her all she deserves. The more I hear, the more I resent her.  When she wasn’t playing the bloody field to her liking she was a cold, conniving bitch, and when she wasn’t that, it’s no bloody wonder how you got to take over everything considering she was a weak-“

Reaver suddenly advanced and rounded on her so quickly she nearly tripped over her own feet to stop from colliding with him. “Have a care how you speak of your mother, dearest. No one wants a bitter daughter to our adored former queen in her old home.”

Something flashed in his eyes that unnerved her. Gone, even for a moment, was the teasing arrogance. There in its place were memories coming back. There was a bit of contained madness there that she had recognized from old enemies as well. It was then that she realized outside of passing comments here and there, ‘you look like your mother’, ‘your mother would’ve done this’, ‘when your mother and I travelled together we...’ so on and so forth. This had been the closest thing to a conversation they had about her. There was something… younger about him suddenly. The pomp and circumstance had come down slightly, just in that moment, and she wondered if he had just eased into how he used to be when he knew her mother, just like that. If this was suddenly the Reaver her mother had written pages about in her journals. And he hadn’t even seemed to catch that he had slipped up in showing _attachment_ quite yet. And then there was… _that_. She would never understand how a man so cold, so open to stabbing others in the back would be so loyal to her mother. It wasn’t love, no. She hardly knew him, but knew him enough that ‘love’ wasn’t something he felt, let alone was capable of.  Whatever it was, she was suddenly very, very aware it was an off-limits area of conversation.  Even if she did press, she knew she would get lie after lie anyway. Or a bullet between the eyes.

Suddenly, her Reaver was back:  guard up, stage sneer on. “After all, I’ve killed men for similar blasphemy," he added. 

Good. They could get back on track with that. “My mother would come back, just to end you for killing me.”

Reaver shrugged. “I swore to your mother I would protect you, girl. She gave me no restraints on killing you _myself_ ,” he countered. There was some other answer that Jocelyn sensed in the air, but none came.

She sighed, then cupped his cheek before giving It a pat. “Spoken like a true father, then.”

Reaver leaned towards her. “Believe me.  Out of all the possibilities, like it or not, I am your best option.”

The pair of them stopped, having reached the main hall. She looked at him. “Ready to waste your time throwing expensive or indecent options at me?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Somebody’s got to be the devil on your shoulder. Though that friend of yours Page would look fetching as one. Shame she's about as nauseatingly good-hearted as you." 

“Whatever you say, Reaver.”

She turned back to the hall and walked through the doors. She started praying that the marriage bit would come last again.

So naturally, when she had stolen a quick glance at Hobson’s list of issues, seeing “Marriage” as the third point, and then the twenty or more subtopics listed under it, she knew she was in for it.

She really, really needed to invest in getting some sort of liquor available in the hall.


End file.
